


The One With The Healing Cock

by trophic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Fuck Or Die, Kink Meme, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Stargate Atlantis Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trophic/pseuds/trophic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something gives John's cock magical healing powers. Carson presses him into service.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With The Healing Cock

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Stargate Atlantis Kink Meme. Contains offscreen Aliens Made Them Do It as well as onscreen Fuck or Die (with a variety of pairings, including John Sheppard/Laura Cadman, John Sheppard/Katie Brown, John Sheppard/Ronon Dex, and John Sheppard/Original Characters). Slightly edited and revised.

"Wait," John says, because _déjà vu_ sucks, "you mean I'm turning into a bug again?"

"Certainly not," Carson says. "Trust me, we've done the blood work three times, and there's no sign that this is in any way related to the retrovirus or your previous transformation."

"Great," John says, because that's not very reassuring. "So I'm turning into something else."

"Already turned, I'm afraid," Carson says. "But the good news is that the change appears to be limited to a single substance in your blood, a hormone that stimulates regeneration and healing."

"Like a Wraith," John says.

"Not exactly," Carson says. "Although I'll admit the mechanism does have some similarities. But I believe we have this hormone to thank for Lieutenant Cadman's remarkable recovery."

It hurts like a knife in the gut to think about what he did to Cadman. What he let her do it to him. But he'd been tied up and she'd been beaten and he still has no idea how either of them could have done anything else and survived. "Wait," John says, because he's still not getting something. "What does something in my blood have to do with Cadman?"

"Actually, I have a theory about that," Carson says, and he reaches in the cabinet behind him and takes out a specimen cup. "I'm afraid I'm going to need a semen sample."

John stares at the cup without taking it, hoping he's imagining this.

"If you need a little visual stimulation, I'm sure we can provide some," Carson adds, lowering his voice. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but there's a collection on the intranet that you can access by--"

"Not gonna be necessary," John says, snatching the cup out of Carson's hand. He knows where the damn porn is, and the last person he wants to talk about it with is Carson.

"You can use the loo," Carson says, waving a hand in the direction of the infirmary restroom. "Just try to get the entire sample in the cup. I'll need as much as possible for my analysis."

"Fantastic," John mutters as he heads for the bathroom.

~~

Jerking off into a cup is not his idea of a good time, but he gets the job done, hands the cup to Carson, and splits, only to wind up face-to-face with Cadman just outside the infirmary door.

He swallows down the sick feeling and exchanges a greeting. He owes her that much.

"You feeling okay, sir?" she asks, her cheerful expression dimming a bit as she peers into his face.

"Look," he says, because he can't see he has any other choice, "we probably should talk."

"Oh-kay," she says, and stands there expectantly, which means he really has to do this.

"What happened out there," he starts, and then thinks better of it. "What I did to you out there--"

"Wasn't your fault," she says promptly, and the cheerful expression is back. "Hey, I'm not saying it was fun, but we did what we had to do to get out of there. There's no point in dwelling on it now. Unless you're...oh, God, were you hurt? Did I do something to--"

"I'm _fine,"_ John says, because he can't stand the idea that she would think that he was the one asking for sympathy. "You were the one they beat up."

Cadman grins, and he suddenly realizes she's not showing any signs of the bruises he saw offworld. There's not even a trace of yellow under the eye that was sporting the shiner. "It looked a lot worse than it was," she says.

"Really?" John says, because he remembers it looking pretty damn bad.

"Yeah," she says. "Seriously, I feel great. Even my trick elbow's not acting up."

"You should probably talk to Carson about that," John says. "He, uh, knows about what happened."

"Well, duh," Cadman says. "I told him everything." Then she suddenly tilts her head. "Oh, God, you're freaking out about that aren't you? Look, Carson knows we were forced. And it's not like he'd have any right to be jealous anymore."

"I shouldn't have let them get the drop on us," John says. "It was my responsibility, and you paid for it."

But Cadman just shakes her head. "I'm fine, sir. Really. I've been through a lot worse. Hey, Jenn!" She turns, motioning to a bright-eyed young woman in scrubs who's about to head into the infirmary. A nurse, maybe. Anyway, John's sure he's seen her around ever since the last Daedalus run. "C'mere," Cadman is saying. "I have a question for you."

The woman gives Cadman a confused smile and comes over. "A question?"

"Yeah," Cadman says. "Listen, if you had a choice between being beaten up or giving the colonel here a blow job, which would you choose?"

The woman blushes and ducks her head. "Um."

"Oh, wait, you two don't know each other? Jennifer, Colonel Sheppard, Colonel, this is Doc Keller."

A doctor, then. So obviously not as young as she looks. John sticks out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Hi," Keller says. Her handshake is firmer than he expected, but it doesn't last very long.

"Seriously," Cadman is saying. "Which would you choose?"

Keller's cheeks are still pink. It's a good look on her. Not that John's looking, because she's not really his type, with the blonde hair and the wide eyes. "I don't get option C?" she asks.

"Nope. Offworlders have you at their mercy, and they have the colonel here all tied up so he can't do anything."

Keller looks from Cadman to John and then back again. "Wait, this isn't hypothetical, is it?"

Cadman doesn't even bother to look guilty. "You'd be amazed at some of the things that happen when you go through that gate."

"Wow," Keller says. "I think I'm glad I haven't been offworld yet."

"It's not always that bad," John says, because he'd hate to give the wrong impression to someone so new to Pegasus.

"No," Cadman agrees with a grin. "Sometimes it's worse."

"You did the right thing," Keller tells Cadman earnestly. "I mean, they could have killed you! And this way you managed to escape, right?"

"Exactly," Cadman says. "See, Colonel? Sucking your cock isn't actually a fate worse than death. Hey, I gotta go talk to Carson. Catch you later." And she turns and walks through the infirmary doors.

"Um," Keller says, not looking John in the eyes. "It was nice to finally meet you."

"Sure," he says. He wonders if she'll be one of the ones who packs up and leaves in less than a month. 

"So I'll, uh, see you later?"

 _I hope not,_ John thinks but doesn't say. He doesn't want her to take it personally; he's just had enough of the infirmary for awhile. "Yeah," he says. "See you around."

~~

Physically, he has to admit he's feeling pretty good. His knees are better than they've been in years, and when half the base comes down with the Pegasus version of the stomach flu the next morning, he doesn't even feel queasy. 

So it doesn't make any sense that he still feels like crap. He winces whenever he sees Cadman, and he knows that's not fair, but he can't seem to stop. Like he can't stop thinking about it, tearing the events apart in his head, telling himself he should have been more cautious, he should have struggled harder, he should have taken a full unit of marines instead of just Cadman.

When Carson calls him back into the infirmary, it's pretty close to the final straw. "Bad news first," he says, because he's braced.

But Carson is smiling and shaking his head. "As far as I can tell, there is no bad news. We found the hormone in your semen in surprisingly high concentrations, and it appears to pass easily through mucous membranes. So Lt. Cadman must have ingested a sufficient quantity to significantly aid her healing, both physically and mentally. I can't see any bad in that."

"Okay," John says slowly. "So what do we do about it?"

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing," Carson says. "Although I would appreciate another sample. I'm afraid the one drawback to the hormone is that it degrades rather quickly outside the body, but if I can figure out how to synthesize it, there's the possibility it could be extremely useful."

"Right," John says, and resigns himself to jerking off into a cup again.

~~

He tries to figure out how it happened. If he touched something he wasn't supposed to. If he got hit with some kind of energy beam. But he doesn't remember a damn thing, and his mission reports don't do much to jog his memory. He even asks Rodney -- obliquely -- if he can think of anything they've been exposed to that was out of the ordinary, but there's nothing they can pinpoint, so John's forced to chalk it up to yet another unsolved Pegasus mystery.

Over the course of the next week, he jerks off into a cup every fucking day. Carson's like a dog with a bone about this thing, and every day it's getting harder to get anything out. It's not like John's doing it in the shower during his downtime; even if he weren't doing it for Carson, he's pretty sure he wouldn't be in the mood. But if he says that to Carson he'll probably get sent to Heightmeyer, so he keeps his mouth shut and yanks on his dick until he's sore.

He sees Jennifer Keller a couple of times, but she's always busy with a patient, so at least he doesn't have to talk to her.

"I'm afraid it's no use," Carson says when he shows up on the eighth day. "I've tried everything, but I can't seem to replicate the hormone with enough stability to be useful."

"So that's it?" John says. "You're just going to leave me like this?"

"Even if I knew how to cure you, I don't see why I would," Carson says. "We'll keep monitoring you to make sure you're not having any deleterious side effects, but barring that, I say just enjoy your health."

"Great," John says, only slightly sarcastically. "I guess I won't be seeing you, then."

~~

As it turns out, he's wrong about that. Because three days later, Katie Brown gets a face full of pollen and goes blind.

John hears about it from Rodney first, of course, and Jesus, he's never seen Rodney so broken. He's trying to think of something, anything, he can do when he gets the call from Carson.

"Look," Carson says when John shows up in the infirmary. "I don't know if this will work, but we have to try." And he hands John another damn specimen cup.

Even though he hasn't come in three days, jerking off is next to impossible. All John can think of is Rodney's face, his hunched shoulders. So maybe John didn't know Katie meant that much to him, but it's not like that makes a difference. He can do something to help -- well, maybe he can -- if only he could get himself off.

He didn't bring a computer so he can't watch porn, and he's having trouble even keeping it up. He cycles though his favorite fantasies, hoping he'll find the right scene: the time Nancy tied his hands to the headboard and then rode him for an hour; the time Lisa insisted on coming five times herself before she'd blow him; the first time he ever got fucked, in Darren's dorm room. 

His cock's full enough by the time he gets to the last one, but it still takes a while and he's drained by the time he's done. He zips up, puts the lid on the cup, and goes out to hand it to Carson. 

He's not going to ask how Carson intends to apply it. He really doesn't want to know. But he can't help patting Rodney's shoulder on his way out and saying, "Hey, it's going to be all right," even though he knows it's a stupid thing to say.

As soon as he's said it, he expects Rodney to argue, and somehow it's worse when Rodney just says a resigned, "Thanks," like he's given up on arguing, too.

John stands there for a moment feeling helpless, then takes the coward's way out and leaves. But he can't keep himself from checking back in the next morning. He shows up just as Carson is talking to Rodney.

"Ah, Colonel, just the man I wanted to see," Carson says.

That doesn't sound good. "How's Dr. Brown doing?" John asks.

"Somewhat better," Carson says. "But I'm afraid the treatment wasn't as successful as I'd hoped."

John feels a crushing sense of disappointment and only then realizes how much he was expecting the damn thing to work like it had for Cadman. But maybe eyes are different than bruises. "Crap," he says. "Look, if there's anything I can do..."

"Actually, I believe there is," Carson says. He glances at Rodney, then back at John. "Perhaps we can discuss this somewhere a wee bit more private?"

John swallows, wondering for the first time if anyone's told Rodney. "Yeah, okay," he says, and follows Carson to his office.

"So I guess it's not the magic bullet you were hoping for," John says.

"Actually," Carson says, "we don't know that yet. I'm afraid the problem may be the instability of the hormone outside the body. While I was able to measure a small amount of it in Dr. Brown's blood, it was nowhere near the level we saw in Lt. Cadman."

John frowns. "So what are you saying?"

"I believe the problem is in the delivery system," Carson says. "I'd like to see if a more direct approach will work better, if you're willing to give it a try."

John has a sudden very bad feeling. "What do you mean, more direct?"

"I mean direct personal contact between Dr. Brown's body and your own."

Jesus H. Christ. "You mean sex," John says bluntly.

"Aye," Carson says. "I've explained to Dr. Brown and she's agreed it's worth a try."

"What about McKay?" John asks.

"Well, that's between himself and Dr. Brown, isn't it?"

"Yeah," John says, and turns on his heel. "But I still have to live with him."

~~

When he explains in awkward, stuttering language what Carson wants him to do, Rodney goes pale.

"You said she's agreed to this?"

"Not like I'd do it if she hadn't," John says.

Rodney seems to pull into himself, hunching his shoulders and not looking John in the eye. "And Carson really believes this could help her."

John shrugs. "It helped Cadman."

"Great," Rodney says sourly, then rubs his face with his hands. "Well, don't be an idiot. Go do it. I'd just really appreciate it if you wouldn't rub it in afterwards."

John jerks back, stung. "Jesus, McKay, what the hell kind of friend do you think I am?"

"Yes, well, it's not going to matter, is it? Once she has sex with you, she's not going to want to come back to me."

John rolls his eyes. "Really don't think it's going to work that way." Because, fine, he's had his competitive moments, but Rodney's _serious_ about Brown. And John's really not that much of a dick.

"That's what you think," Rodney says sourly, then waves a hand. "Go. Do your white knight, sexual healing thing. And don't tell me about it afterward."

"Not a chance," John says, and heads back in.

Katie Brown is in a private room -- one of only two in the whole infirmary -- and she has a big white bandage covering half her face. But she sits up when John comes in and turns to face him.

"Colonel, is that you?"

"Yeah," John says. "How you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she says promptly. It's obviously a lie, but John's not about to call her on it.

"That's good," John says inanely. And then he adds, because he has to, "You really want to go through with this?"

"Oh, yes," she says, and that sounds less like a lie. "Dr. Beckett says it might help. The only thing I'm worried about is Rodney."

"Yeah, I talked to him," John says. "Look, you're not planning to break up with him, are you? Because now would probably be a pretty bad time."

"What?" she says. "Oh, God, no. Is that what he's worried about? That's so sweet."

 _Sweet_ isn't exactly a word John associates with Rodney McKay, but he's not going to mention that. 

"So I guess we should, um, get on with this?" Brown says, and John realizes he's just standing there.

"Right," he says. And stands there. The bandage is pretty big, and her skin below it looks red, like a bad sunburn. He can't imagine her going down on him like Cadman did. "Uh," he says, "where do you want me?"

She's -- oh, God -- slipping off her underwear under her hospital gown. "Dr. Beckett said any contact with a mucous membrane would work," she says, "so I thought, I mean it would be easier if we just...if you just fuck me."

John winces, suddenly glad she can't see him. 

"Oh!" Brown says, like she saw the wince anyway, "you don't have to worry about birth control. That's all taken care of."

John's too ashamed to say his thoughts hadn't gotten that far. "That's good."

"Do you need me to undress?" she asks. 

"No!" he says too fast. "You're fine the way you are. I mean, if that's what you want."

"Thanks," she says. "I'm just a little cold." But she's already hiked up her gown and Jesus, John's not ready for this. He really didn't need to know that her red hair comes out of a bottle.

But he can do this. He has to. It's the only right thing to do. He forces himself to step closer to the bed and pat her knee, which flinches under his hand.

"Crap, sorry," he says. "Forgot you can't see."

"It's okay," she says, her voice tremulous under the false brightness.

"Um," he says, and tries again. "Is it okay if I touch you again?"

"You don't have to," she says, which makes absolutely no sense. "I mean, well, obviously you have to, I just mean you don't have to touch me like that. Not that you were...I mean, it's totally okay! I'd just feel better if you didn't try to make me, you know, enjoy it."

He understands what she's getting at, because it makes sense that she'd think getting off would mean betraying Rodney. But that means she wants him to treat her like a blow-up sex doll and he just...can't. Fuck. He really can't do this.

"Sorry," he hears his voice say. "I can't...I have to...excuse me a sec." He looks around wildly and sees a blanket, neatly folded on a medical cart. "Here, have a blanket," he says, throwing it across her lap before he flees.

Outside, the infirmary is its usual model of low-key efficiency. Carson is nowhere in sight, and none of the nurses seem to notice John. In fact, no one is even turned his way except...Jennifer Keller.

Shit. She's coming over. There's nowhere to hide but the private room, and John can't go back in there. Not yet.

"Colonel," Keller says, looking up into his face, "are you all right?"

"Fine," John says. Maybe he can bluff this. Maybe she doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing with -- to -- Katie Brown right now.

"You can't be done yet," Keller says, glancing at the door to the private room. "Can you?"

Okay, so she knows. John looks around wildly, hoping for some means of escape. "I just needed, uh..." But he can't think of an excuse. There is no excuse. He's supposed to be in there, fucking someone who thinks of him as a medical procedure.

"Anything I can help with?" Keller says, all concerned and professional with her ridiculously innocent face. 

"No," he says, because she can't change the way things have to be. "I'm good."

She's frowning and looking at the door to the private room. "Did something happen to Dr. Brown? Maybe I'd better check on her."

"No," he says, and then realizes it's the perfect stall. "Actually, yeah, could you make sure she's okay?"

"Of course," Keller says, giving him another quiet glance before slipping into the private room.

The infirmary is still calm. No one's looking John's way. It would be easy enough to leave, and he can come back later, when he's a little more...in the mood. If he's ever in the mood again. 

"Colonel?" It's Marie, the chief nurse. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he lies again. Does everyone in the whole damn infirmary know why he's here? "Doc Keller's just..." He jabs a thumb in the direction of the private room, "Doing her thing."

"Of course," Marie says and moves on, but Keller's coming out already and John's lost his chance to get away.

"Um," Keller says, looking at him appraisingly, and crap, crap, what did Brown tell her? "I think you'd better come with me."

She stops by the dispensing cabinet and pulls out a strip of blue pills and John feels his face heat. "Look," he says, "that's not really..."

"I know," she says. "But if you're going to go through with this, we have to do something. You are still planning to go through with it?"

John wishes like hell he could say no, but he said he'd do it, and he will. He's not going to break his word. "Yeah."

"Okay," she says, and leads the way to the infirmary's only other private room. She shuts the door behind them, fills a plastic cup with water at the sink, and hands it to John along with one of the blue pills. 

"I told Dr. Brown you'd be back in half an hour," Keller says, eyeing him frankly. "This should help, but it's not magic. You'll still need a certain amount of, um, stimulation."

John stares at the damn pill in his hand. He doesn't need it. Well, he doesn't usually need it. But he's desperate and if he takes it, maybe Keller will leave him alone. He tosses it to the back his mouth, chases it down with a gulp of water, and tries to make himself forget that she just said "stimulation."

"I can help with that, too," Keller says. Her cheeks are pink again, and the damn viagra couldn't be working this quickly, could it? "I mean, you know, if you want."

"I'm sorry?" he says, because that can't possibly mean what he thinks it means.

"Oh, it's okay," she says, and her cheeks are even brighter. "I didn't mean...you know what? I'm going to get you a computer and you can just, uh, relax in here for about twenty-five minutes."

Jesus. She wants him to watch porn. She's going to know he's watching. And there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

She leaves him like that, and when she comes back she has a laptop and a small bottle of lubricant. So she's not a complete innocent, anyway. She sets them down on the exam table without comment and turns to go. "If you need anything, just, you know, holler," she says.

Or maybe she is pretty innocent, or she really wouldn't phrase it like that. "Sure," he lies, because there's no way in hell he's going to call for her.

"Great," she says, and opens the door. She's halfway through it when she turns around with a determined look on her face. "Okay, I know this isn't very professional or whatever, but I need to say this. What Dr. Beckett is asking of you? It's not right. And believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It's actually kind of nice to see all the rumors are wrong."

John can't look at her. He'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy right now, possibly including on board a hostile hive ship. "Rumors?" he hears himself say.

"Oh, I'm sure you've heard enough of them," she says. "Don't worry, I never really believed them, anyway." And with that, she's gone.

"Fuck," John says out loud to the empty room. He doesn't open the laptop, just stares at the back of the door, wondering what the hell kind of rumors she's talking about. Something about sex, obviously, and not flattering. Although he has no idea what he did to deserve that; he's slept with exactly two people in the three years he's been in Pegasus.

That will be three in less than half an hour if he can manage to get it up. He can't tell if the viagra is working yet. He doesn't feel any different. And the only thing that's managed to get him stirring so far is Jennifer Keller talking about stimulation.

It's ridiculous. She's not even close to his type, which runs more to worldly brunettes. And, well, guys, although he hasn't been with a guy in ages. Still, the point is, he's never been attracted to bright-eyed blondes. Even if they know enough to bring the lube when they bring the porn.

Damn, maybe the viagra is working, after all. John doesn't have a whole lot of pride left, so he fires up the laptop and heads for the so-called super-secret network directory that contains the porn. He picks out a file he's only watched two or three times -- it's a pretty good scene, but the guy on top isn't very hot -- and gets down to work.

~~

He's not exactly into it when he hears the knock on the door, but he's hard enough, thanks to the blue pill.

"Just a sec," he calls out, closing the video file and snapping the computer shut. He pockets the lube and hastily buttons his fly. He can feel his cock pressing against the fabric of his shorts and he tries to rearrange himself to make it less obvious, but there's not a hell of a lot he can do to hide it. 

Keller's waiting for him outside. She gives his crotch a quick, jerky look, like she's trying not to, and asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Let's get this over with."

She puts her hand on his arm and squeezes, and damned if that doesn't do more for him than twenty-minutes of hard-core porn. So fine, maybe he is a little attracted to her. Or maybe he's just that desperate. 

"Okay," she says, and leads the way to the private room where Katie Brown is still apparently waiting. The thought is not exactly inspiring, but either the pill or Keller's warmth beside him keeps him from flagging as the door opens. "Remember, if you need anything, I mean, anything at all, just ask, okay?"

She can't know what she's saying, what it's making him think. "I'm good," he says, and steps inside to face Brown, his erection still heavy in his boxers.

Brown lifts her bandaged head as he comes in.

"Hey," John says. "Sorry about that."

"No," she says. "No, I understand. It's awful to ask this of you. But Dr. Beckett seemed to think..."

"Yeah, well, let's see if we can prove him right, okay?" John says.

"Yes," Brown says. "Let's." And she sits up and pushes off the blanket, then lies back down and pulls her gown open, baring herself all the way to her shoulders.

"Oh, hey," John says softly, and he steps up to the bed and takes the edges of the gown in his hands. She looks so vulnerable like this, with her breasts and belly exposed to the infirmary air. He wraps the gown back around her, covering her torso almost down to her crotch. "Don't want you to get cold," he says.

Her lips tremble a little below the bandage. "Thank you. That's...really nice of you."

He can't answer that. He's never felt less nice in his life. "I better..." he says. "While I still have some, uh, momentum."

"Oh!" Brown says, spreading her legs for him. "Of course."

He steps out of his pants and slicks himself up with the lube, giving himself a few quick tugs before he enters her. He goes as slow as he can and she suppresses her winces pretty well, and eventually he's all the way in. 

He braces himself above her and closes his eyes. Hell, it's not like she's going to be able to tell. "Hang on," he says, and starts to move.

He doesn't know if it's the viagra or the whole situation, but he feels bizarrely disconnected from his body, like it's someone else moving his hips. He fucks her for awhile like that, but he can tell it's not getting anywhere. If he keeps this up it could take an hour to come.

He tries to call up a few images from the porn he was watching, but it's too far removed from what he's doing. He needs something, anything, and asking Brown for help is pretty much out of the question. So he knows it's wrong of him, but his mind slides right where he doesn't want it to go, to Jennifer Keller. Who's not entirely naive, and who knows exactly what he's doing right now.

He feels hot all over at the thought, almost like she can see him. Like she's watching his ass as he thrusts. Like she's the one telling him what to do, how hard to push, how fast. And he's doing everything she tells him, everything she wants to see him do.

She doesn't approve. He knows that, knows he shouldn't be thinking about her like this, but that only makes him hotter. She thinks what he's doing is wrong, but she's making him do it anyway. He's here because of her. Because she wants him here. Because she wants him to do this, to fuck Katie Brown until he comes.

John groans at the thought, and just like that it's over; he's doing what he came here to do, his hips jerking out his release.

"Are you okay?" Brown asks, and John realizes his dick is still buried inside her.

"Yeah," John says. "Sorry." He pulls out and stumbles off the bed, groping for his pants. "You?"

"I'm fine," Brown says. "Did you, um...?"

Jesus. "Yeah," John says roughly. "Yeah, that should do it." He untangles his shorts from his pants. "Hope it works."

"Me, too," she says, sitting up and tugging her gown down over her knees. "Colonel, thank you. Even if it doesn't work. You were--"

"Don't say it," John says, pulling on his boxers. "Really. Don't."

Brown frowns behind her bandage. "I don't see what the...oh. Oh, God, no, I wasn't going to say that. I only meant it was kind of you."

"Don't mention that to McKay," John says. "Tell him I was a dick and you couldn't stand me."

Brown laughs, and then goes serious. "I can't," she says. "Rodney and I don't lie to each other."

"Yeah, well trust me. There are certain things he doesn't want to know. Even if he asks."

She smiles again. "You're a good friend to him. He really does know that, even if he doesn't always show it."

"Yeah," John says, just to get out of the conversation. "Look do you mind if I take off?"

"Oh, of course not. I'm sure you have lots of important things to do. Thank you again."

John chokes out a "you're welcome" as he goes.

Carson is waiting outside the door when he comes out, and Keller is, too, but she hangs back, deferring to her superior. 

"Well," Carson says, "I take it you got the job done?"

John can't help a wince. "It damn well better help."

"We'll have to wait and see," Carson says, "and hope for the best."

"How long until we know if it's working?" Keller asks, and John can't help looking at her. Fortunately, she's still looking at Carson.

"There's really no way to tell," Carson says. "We didn't realize what was happening to Cadman until she was nearly healed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on our patient."

John doesn't say a damn thing, just lets Carson go in there. But Keller doesn't follow him. She's too busy looking at John.

"You okay?" she asks.

Damn her perceptiveness. But the last thing John wants to say is no. "Oh, sure, fine," he says. "I gotta go."

"Right, of course you do," she says, and gives him a little wave. "See you."

He spends the day trying to catch up on all of his administrative work. He hates falling behind, and Carson's been taking up too much of his time lately. He's doing a damn good job of not thinking about Katie Brown. He's kind of proud of that. So when he heads for the mess, the only thing on his mind is whether it's going to be Lantean Sea Bass yet again.

There's a line at the service table, and he's only made it far enough to determine that it smells more like chicken than fish when a whirlwind the size and shape of Rodney McKay accosts him from behind.

"What the...?" is all he has time to say before he's being squeezed within an inch of his life. John staggers, not sure if he's being attacked or, oh. Apparently it's a hug. He tries to figure out where the hell to put his hands while Rodney mutters something into the collar of his jacket and pats his back.

"Rodney?" John says eventually. "You probably want to let go of me before anyone gets the wrong idea."

Rodney thumps him on the back one more time and then releases him. "I can't believe you did it. I mean, when you told me I just assumed it was some sort or ridiculous excuse to...well, not that I really thought you'd be the kind of person who would do that sort of thing, but still, I have to admit that I never in a thousand years thought it could actually work."

"Wait," John says, because the hug thing kind of threw him. "She's doing better?"

"See for yourself," Rodney says, gesturing impossibly to a table in the mess, where Katie Brown is sitting next to Teyla, her face unbandaged and normal.

"Holy shit," John says, walking slowly toward her. Brown looks up when he gets close and jumps up out of her chair.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary?" John says.

She grabs his hands with hers and squeezes, beaming up into his face. Her cheeks and eyelids are kind of blotchy, but other than that she looks perfectly fine, and her eyes are obviously tracking. "I know, isn't it amazing? Dr. Beckett said he's never seen anything like it." And then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses John right on the cheek. "I don't know how to thank you, Colonel."

John's suddenly aware of Rodney standing right there watching them, and he feels like shit. Because Rodney was right, even if it wasn't the sex that did it. "Just don't name a plant after me," he says, sliding his hands out from hers. 

"Oh, of course not," Brown says -- too quickly, like she's got a specimen all picked out, and here John thought he was kidding. "I wouldn't...I mean, not unless you wanted me to."

Rodney's expression is getting more miserable by the moment, and it's obviously time for John to cut his losses. "Look," he says, stepping back and gesturing vaguely in the direction of the door, "I have to do a...thing. I'll see you all later."

He's hungry, but he can get a snack in a couple of hours. It's worth it to escape another disaster in the making.

~~

It's not that he's sorry it worked. Really, he's not, because once Rodney figures out John's not out to steal his girlfriend, things go back to something resembling normal, and every time John sees them together, he doesn't regret a moment of it. 

But the truth is, it didn't just work. It worked frighteningly well, and far too publicly. So John's not exactly surprised when he gets called into Elizabeth's office.

She's already heard the gist from Carson, and John's grateful, because he doesn't want to have to go through a lengthy explanation.

"John, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this."

"Yeah," he says, "join the crowd."

She turns to face him, meeting his eyes squarely. "Are you saying Carson pressured you?"

He almost wants to say yes and end this thing, but it's bigger than him and he knows it. "Look," he says. "She was in a bad way. I could cure her. You think I'd say no?"

Elizabeth frowns. "No, and that's what worries me."

That really wasn't the response he was looking for. The last thing he needs is for Elizabeth to get her shorts in a knot about this. "Really," John lies, "it was no big deal. You know, two consenting adults doing consenting adult things."

"Yes, I know," she says. "I didn't mean to imply it wasn't."

John looks around. Elizabeth's office isn't exactly private, but there's no one any closer than the control room. "You think I should have refused?"

Her lips go tight. "You would have been well within your rights."

"So I have a right to say no, but not yes?"

She stares at him, and he has to make an effort not to squirm. "Okay," she says finally. "I get it. You're not going to leave anyone behind, are you?"

He tries to keep it light, but he's not sure he succeeds. "Would I be me if I did?"

~~

After Elizabeth's official go-ahead, he's not exactly surprised when, about a week later, he gets another call from Carson.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but I have a patient in trouble. Can you come?"

He apologizes to the staff sergeant he's meeting with and heads for the infirmary, where Carson greets him at the door.

"I didn't want to call you, but I'm afraid she's taken a turn for the worse."

"Who?" John asks, because he has no idea who Carson's talking about.

"Captain Crown," Carson says, and John's gut goes queasy. Crown's one of his oldest officers -- she came to Pegasus with the original expedition -- and he knows her well enough to suspect that this is a very, very bad plan.

"Thought you said she had a minor stomach thing," he says.

"Oh, aye," Carson says, "that's what we thought. But the bacteria aren't responding to our antibiotics and her toxin levels are building at a truly alarming rate. I'm afraid if we don't do something, she has less than twenty-four hours to live."

John has to take a deep breath before he can speak. "And she agreed to this?"

"Of course," Carson says. "I would never have called you without her full consent."

Crap. What the hell kind of choice is that, sex or death? He's pretty damn sure Crown wouldn't say yes under any other circumstance.

"Colonel?" another voice says, and he knows before he turns that it's Keller. "You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"Yeah," he says heavily, "I do."

Her face is so full of sympathy he has to look away. Which turns out to be a mistake, because then he catches Carson's expression.

"Well, lad, I don't need to tell you what to do. She's in there," he points to the same damn private room, "whenever you're ready."

Carson turns away, giving John a little room to breathe. But Keller's still right at his elbow. "If you need to, um, like last time," she says, and wow, John really didn't think this could get any more humiliating.

He manages a short, jerky nod and follows her into the second private room. She has the damn blue pills in her lab coat pocket already, and she hands one over without comment. There's a computer and a bottle of lube already waiting on the exam table.

"I'm sorry," Keller says when he's swallowed the pill. "I really am." She folds her arms awkwardly over her chest, like she's hugging herself. "I want you to know that I've asked Carson to let me pick up where he left off, trying to synthesize the hormone. I mean, I don't see how I'm going to succeed when he didn't, but I'm trying."

John's chin jerks up and he feels a rush of warmth. "Thank you," he says, and it comes out wrong: too strung out, too desperate. "That's...thanks."

"I hate this," she says. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want Captain Crown to die, not if there's any way we can save her. I just wish we had a better way."

"Yeah," John says. "No shit." And how is it possible that Keller is the one person who understands what he's going through? She barely even knows him.

"Well," she says, unfolding her arms. "I probably should, you know, leave you to it." And she heads for the door.

"Wait," John hears himself say, and she turns back to him expectantly, so he has to say it. "Were you there when she gave her consent?"

Keller nods. "Carson wouldn't lie to you."

"I know," John says. "You think she meant it?"

Keller frowns. "Why wouldn't she?"

John presses his lips together, because it's not his secret to tell. "No reason."

But Keller's apparently smarter than he thought. "No...oh. Oh, God." Her eyes go wide. "Are you saying she's gay?"

John shakes his head. "I'm not saying a damn thing." He's certainly not going to mention the time he saw her making out with Dr. Esposito. He's not mentioning that to anyone, up to and including his superior officers.

"Wow," Keller says. "That's awful. I mean, not that she's a lesbian, obviously. I just can't believe no one thought to ask."

"Not like it makes a difference either way," John says frankly. "It's her choice."

"Right," Keller says. "I know. I just...look, if there's anything I can do, anything at all, you know all you have to do is ask, right?"

She's looking up at him with earnest eyes, and he feels a pang of heat and shame, because she can't have any idea what that sounds like. Where his mind is going. So maybe it's the viagra again, but there's definitely something stirring in his pants.

"You're doing enough," he says. It comes out too rough, too strong.

"Okay," she says, a little taken aback, like she wasn't expecting that kind of response. "Okay, good." She checks her watch. "I better give you some time to yourself."

He can't ask her to stay, like he can't ask her for anything else because she's already giving him too much. "Thanks," he says, and watches her go.

He goes with gay porn again, not because it's what he wants to watch, but because at least he won't have to worry about any of the talent looking like her.

~~

Crown is lucid when he goes in to her, which puts his worst fears to rest.

"You sure you want to go through with this, Captain?" he asks because he can.

Her forehead is beaded with sweat, but she manages an incredulous expression. "You really think I'm going to have a problem with the regs in this condition?"

"Not really what I was thinking about," John says wryly.

Crown rolls her eyes. "Well if you think your dick is going to scar me for life, you're pretty full of yourself."

"So you want me to..."

"Get the fuck on with it," she says. "Sir."

Her attitude isn't any easier to take than Katie Brown's, but John strips out of his boots and pants and climbs on the bed and Crown spreads her knees and pulls her gown out of the way. He's still hard, thanks to Keller and her little blue pills, so he slicks himself up and gets into position. He's expecting her to be tighter than Brown, but he slides in easily.

Yeah, he's not asking and she's not telling. He's been on both sides of that equation, and what the hell she does with Esposito or anyone else is really not his business.

He just wishes _this_ wasn't his business, either. 

Somehow he gets through it. Crown lies limp under him, her energy obviously exhausted from the conversation, and he closes his eyes and fucks her. This time he's desperate enough that he doesn't even try to avoid thinking about Keller. Thinking about her standing outside the room. Maybe listening in, right now.

The thought makes his breath come faster. He imagines her walking in, seeing him like this. It's almost enough to make him wish he'd taken off his t-shirt.

Not that he thinks she's actually attracted to him, because she's been nothing but professional. He's sure she didn't mean _that_ when she said she'd do anything to help. Unless, Jesus. What if she did? What if she was offering her hand, or even her mouth?

Crown whimpers beneath him and John freezes, wondering what the hell he just did. "Sorry," he says, and whatever it is, he means it.

"Don't you dare stop," she grates out, so he grits his teeth and finds his rhythm again. Keller. Right. Offering a little hands-on assistance. 

He has a sudden flash to the image of her face when she said it, open and honest. God, what if she really meant it? Only why the hell she would offer he has no idea, unless she thinks viagra and porn wouldn't be enough for him. 

His face goes warm at the thought. She must think he's terrible in bed, and that really should be a turn-off because he's never been into humiliation, but somehow it makes him hotter. 

Maybe it's because he's desperate. Maybe it's knowing she's been thinking about his dick. Or maybe it's because he can picture her looking at him, picture the frown between her eyebrows as she contemplates his naked body.

"Sorry, Colonel," she'd say. "I'm afraid you're not hard enough." And she'd wrap her hand around his dick and tug a few times, just to see if she could get him to respond to her.

And of course he would, which would be almost as humiliating. He'd go stiff in her hand and she'd say, "That's better," only she wouldn't realize just how much of an effect she was having on him. And maybe she'd tug a few more times for good measure. Maybe she'd tug one time too many.

He can picture it so damn easily, watching her dismayed expression as he spurts all over her hand. And just like that he's coming, hot and shamed and finally, finally done.

He pulls out of Crown as smoothly as he can. Her eyes are closed and her hair is damp with sweat. She looks awful, and John hopes to hell he didn't make things worse, because what he just did to her is bad enough if it cures her.

He pulls on his boxers and pants as fast as he can. "I'm gonna go get Carson," he says as he stuffs his feet into his boots.

"I'm okay," she says, but it sounds thin and weak.

"Tell that to the doc," John says, and runs for it.

Carson's right outside, so it's easy enough to send him in. It's a lot harder to face Keller.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asks, laying a hand on his arm.

He's fucked up enough that he doesn't pull away like he knows he should. "Oh, I'm just great," he says, low and sarcastic. 

"Oh, God," she says. "Do you need to, um, talk? We could..." and she jerks her head toward the second private room, like she thinks that would be a good idea.

"No," he says, and turns until her hand falls off his arm.

"You should probably see Dr. Heightmeyer," Keller says.

"That doctor's orders?" he snaps.

"No," she says quickly. "No, of course not. You need...you should do whatever you need to. I just meant, you know, it might help."

The person he should talk to, John realizes, is Elizabeth. Only he's already cut off that avenue of escape. "It was fine," John says. "It wasn't...she was okay with it."

Keller's hand lifts like she wants to touch him again, but then she pulls it back. "Maybe next time it won't be as bad," she says.

"Yeah," John says. "Or maybe it'll be worse."

Keller bites her lower lip. "You can always say no."

"Oh yeah," John says. "I'm going to let someone die because I'm not in the mood."

Her eyes go wide. "I didn't mean it like that," she says quietly, and damn it, he really didn't mean to hurt her, too.

"I know," he says, and rubs his face. "Look, I gotta go."

"Hey, if you need anything, anything at all, the offer still stands."

He gets it, then. That's her way of coping, so she doesn't feel like a jerk. She has no idea what it's doing to him, and damn it, apparently the viagra is still in his system. "Thanks," he manages to say, and gets the hell out of there before he does anything stupid.

~~

Crown is better inside twenty-four hours. Back in uniform in the mess and looking like herself. She doesn't give John a hug but she says a quiet "thank you, sir," and later he sees her sitting with Esposito, which is reward enough. A steady string of people stops by the table to talk to them, but John doesn't think much of it until he comes home that evening to find three women outside his door.

One is Dr. Krenzke from anthropology, and the second is an astrophysicist whose name he can never remember, and the third is Sgt. Payson. Payson is leaning against the wall next to his door, while both Krenzke and the physicist have their arms crossed over their chests. They have two things in common: they're all dressed to the hilt and none of them looks happy.

"Something I can do for you ladies?" John asks, looking from one to the other.

"I was here first," Krenzke says, stepping toward him. "They can take their turns later."

"That's not fair and you know it," Payson says. "I've got bursitis, migraines, and plantar warts. I think that tops your psoriasis."

"Whoa," John says, because it's suddenly, painfully clear what they're here for. "This isn't the drive-through pharmacy."

"That may be why she's here," Krenzke says with a dismissive gesture at Payson. She leans toward John, and wow, that's a low-cut blouse. "I just think we could have some fun."

John really wishes he'd seen this coming. Then he'd have some sort of excuse planned. "Look," he says, "nothing personal, because you're all extremely attractive, but I've had a long day."

"I say we make him choose," the physicist pipes up. She has long brown hair and sultry eyes and if she only knew it, she's the closest to John's type. If he ever actually has a type again. "Unless he wants all three of us at once."

It's clearly time to take charge. "Nobody's choosing anything," John says. "You," he points to all three of them, "are going back to your quarters, and I am going to mine. To sleep," he adds, in order to be excruciatingly clear, "alone."

"Oh, come on," Krenzke says, sliding closer to his personal space. "There's no need for you to be all by yourself tonight and we're perfectly willing to take turns. Aren't we?" she says pointedly, glaring over her shoulder at the other two.

The last thing he needs is to have them start fighting over him. "Sorry," John says. "Not tonight."

Payson brightens. "Some other night, then?"

Oh, great. "Look, if you have a medical problem, go to the infirmary. I'm sure Doc Beckett can set you right up."

"What is he," Krenzke asks, "your pimp?"

That hits way too close to home, but before John can say anything, the physicist is putting her hand on Krenzke's wrist. "Give it up, Steph. He's not going to sleep with you."

"You wish," Krenzke says, wrenching her arm away, and Payson is busy watching them, so John takes the opportunity to swipe his door crystals.

"Good-night, ladies," he says, and slips inside.

~~

His chime rings three times in the night, but he doesn't answer. He figures anyone who really needs him can radio. He takes the precaution of checking with a life-signs detector in the morning, but there's no one camped out outside his door.

It's early, and none of his teammates are in the mess. John looks around for someone safe to sit with, but Elizabeth is leaving, and the only person sitting alone is...Jennifer Keller.

Right, well, that's out of the frying pan and into the fire, but it's better than the alternative. She looks up in surprise when he sets his tray down. "This seat taken?"

"Oh!" she says. "No. Please, sit down, Colonel."

"John," he corrects absent-mindedly as he slides into the seat, and then realizes what he's just done. He doesn't want to be friends with her. He can't handle being friends with her. But she smiles and looks so pleased he can't really regret it.

"John, then," she says. "You're up early."

"I was going to say the same," he says. Now that he's looking at her, he can see circles under her eyes. Like she's not sleeping well, either.

"Actually, I haven't been to bed yet," she says. "The evening shift ran a little late."

That would explain the circles. "Thought you worked days," he says, taking a bite of his muffin.

"Usually I do," she says, and then her mouth curls up into a smile. "I did a double shift yesterday, covering for Dr. Oni. She finally got to go on a date with Lt. Taylor."

John doesn't have the heart to tell her she just outed one of his officers, about whom he hadn't known. "That was nice of you," he says, because he can't help wondering if she was returning a favor.

"Just, you know, doing my part," she says, which doesn't tell him one way or another. But he doesn't get to answer, because Dr. Krenzke is approaching their table. 

John braces himself, but Krenzke doesn't even look at him. "Dr. Keller?"

"Yes?" Keller says. "Can I do something for you?"

"Actually, I'm the one who can do something for you," Krenzke says with a smile that would make a barracuda nervous. "Just a little bit of friendly advice. I know what you're trying to do, but it's not going to work. Trust me, he's either a monk or gay."

"I'm sorry?" Keller says, her face as innocently bland as John's ever seen it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Krenzke snorts. "Oh, I think you do," she says, and walks off.

Keller's cheeks are bright pink. "Oh my God," she says, pitching her voice low. "Did you see that? I thought she was going to take my head off."

John rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I figured it'd be safe to sit with you. Guess I figured wrong."

"Wait," Keller says. "This isn't the first time that's happened?"

There's no point in denying it if his stalkers are going to be making public scenes in the mess. "She came to my room last night with one thing on her mind. Only thing that saved me was she had a couple of rivals."

"Oh, God," Keller says. "That's...wow. They want to sleep with you because they...wow."

"Nothing like being wanted," John says.

"That's awful," Keller says. "We have to tell them they can't do that. I mean, um." Her cheeks go pinker. "Not if you don't want them to."

John takes a long drink of his tepid coffee and tries to keep his own face from going warm. "Not that hard up," he says.

"Oh," she says, still bright pink. "Right. Of course not. I still...you shouldn't have to deal with that. Not with everything else going on."

John takes another gulp of coffee. It's easier than saying anything.

"I guess we can't just tell everyone you're gay," Keller says, and John chokes on his coffee and has to cough a lot. "Sorry, sorry," Keller says. She doesn't pat him on the back, but then she's a doctor so she probably knows better. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," John manages. "You do know I'm in the Air Force, right?"

"Yeah," she says, "sorry. I didn't mean it like, um. But there has to be something, right? Something that will make them realize you're not available?"

"I can handle it," John says. "They'll get the message eventually."

"Nothing personal, but she didn't really seem like the kind of person who gets messages," Keller says. "She wouldn't back off unless she thought you were...okay wait. That might work. If you...uh, okay. Maybe not."

"What?" John says, because she just censored herself and he wants to know why.

"No, it was just a stupid idea. Not worth trying."

"What idea?"

Keller pushes her hair back and toys with the remains of her eggs. "Well, I was just thinking, if she thought you were, you know, dating someone else, she'd have to back off, wouldn't she?"

"Possibly," John says neutrally, playing for time. She can't be going to the obvious place with that, can she?

"So," she says, "we just have to find someone to date you. Or, you know, pretend to, anyway."

Okay, apparently not. He should have figured she wasn't volunteering. "Look, that's not really an option," he says.

"Really?" She turns her head, scanning the room. "You don't think Teyla would do that for you?"

John winces. He can't imagine pretending to date Teyla. He burned that bridge far too long ago. "Nobody would buy it," he says. "She's known me too long. Everybody knows we're just friends."

"Okay," she says, but she doesn't really look convinced. Which makes sense, because it's a pretty lame argument. "I guess Dr. Weir is out for the same reason?"

John nods, hoping she'll give this up, but she's looking down at her tray. 

"Well, I'd volunteer myself," she says, "but then you'd have to, you know, put up with me. And nobody would believe it anyway."

John feels his pulse pick up. "Why not?" he asks, leaning back casually.

Her chin tips up, surprised. "Well, obviously. I mean, you're you, and I'm...me."

"Not seeing the problem," John says. Cool. He's playing it cool. It's not like he _wants_ to pretend to date her. She's already dangerous enough.

"Really?" she says, and goes pink all over again. "Well, okay." Like it's decided. Like she's going to just go and do it and shit, that was not what he meant at all. "I guess this is a good start, then, having breakfast together."

He could call it off now. He knows that, just like he knows he really should. But it's not like he's going to date anyone for real when he has to perform on cue for Carson, and maybe if he spends a little more time with her, he'll get over this stupid twitch he feels whenever he sees her. "Movie night's tomorrow," he says.

"Oh," she says, like she's surprised. "That would be good. We could, um. I mean, we should probably arrive together. I get off at seven. Do you want me to stop by your quarters?"

He doesn't. It's way too close to intimate. Too close to the real thing. "Sure," he says.

"Speaking of quarters," she says, "I really need to get some sleep." She pushes her chair back and stands up. "Maybe if I kind of stake my claim before I go, you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he says automatically. It's not like he can't handle a little female attention. But then Keller is around the table and bending toward him.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm just going to kiss you." And then her lips are against his.

She kisses the way she talks, awkwardly but sincerely. Against his better judgment, John twists in his chair and lifts his hands to frame her face, and suddenly it's not awkward anymore. Her lips are soft and mobile and she leans into him like she can't help herself.

John feels something in his chest crack open. He needs this. He needs more than this. So when she starts to pull back his lips kind of cling to hers for a moment before he realizes what he's doing.

"Wow," she says. "You're really good at this pretending stuff."

It's like a bucket of cold water to the face. He doesn't know what the hell he was thinking. Well, obviously, he wasn't thinking. Most of his blood is still pretty far south. "See you tomorrow," he says.

"Yes, right," she says. "Movie night. I'll be there." And she gives him a dimpling smile before heading out with her tray.

~~

Except as it turns out, they don't make it to movie night, because John gets a call from Carson a few minutes before she's supposed to show.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I wouldn't ask if it weren't dire."

It's close to seven, so John's not sure Keller will still be there. Maybe she'll have gotten off early to primp before their pretend date. Or maybe he'll miss her in the halls. It will probably be better that way, anyway. Someone else can give him the damn viagra.

But when he gets to the infirmary, she's there, and all he feels is relief. Well, more than relief, but he's not going there, not now.

"Colonel," she says, coming over to him, and he's irrationally disappointed that she's not calling him by his first name.

"Oh, thank God," Carson says from the doorway of the private room. "I need you to hurry, lad. I'm afraid he's in a bad way." And he disappears back into the room.

Crap. It's a man. John should have known it was going to happen sooner or later. It's not like it matters to _him,_ but he's pretty damn sure it will matter to the patient. "Who is it?" he grates out.

"Sergeant Davies," Keller says, and John's heart sinks. He'd never say he knows every one of his men perfectly, but he's pretty damn sure Davies is straight. "It's not a problem that he's a man, is it?" she asks, her brow rumpled in confusion. "I thought you were--" 

She doesn't finish the sentence, and John goes hot all over. He needs to know exactly what she thought and why, but she doesn't say anything more, and he can't ask because there's a crisis going on and they're in the middle of the damn infirmary. "C'mon," he says, and heads for the second room.

Keller hands him the pill and the water but her face is tight with worry. "Sergeant Davies ingested something poisonous offworld," she explains. "He's crashing fast. I just don't know if we're going to have half an hour for this to work."

John gulps the pill down just as his radio comes to life in his ear. "Colonel." It's Carson. "You'd best hurry. I think we're losing him."

John's had to make a lot of split-second decisions in his career. He's never had to make one like this. "Jennifer," he says, and it sounds like a croak. "I need..."

She's right there in an instant. "Anything," she says.

She's done it once already, even if it was for a very different reason. It's still wrong to do this to her, but John's out of options.

He slides a hand around the back of her head and kisses her.

She startles against him but she doesn't pull away, and in a moment her arms are wrapped around his neck and her mouth is open, her tongue touching his. It's nothing like the kiss in the mess. It's hot and dirty, and he had no idea she could kiss like this. He can feel her breasts plastered against his chest and her hips, rocking against his lower down. She's on tiptoe, leaning into him like this is turning her on, too, and she's pushy in all the best ways.

"Fuck," John says, wrenching his mouth away.

She's wide-eyed and breathless. "Oh, God. Did I do something wrong?"

"No," John says. He doesn't even know which would be worse, if she's just that good at pretending or if kissing him actually turns her on. "I'm good. I'm ready," he adds, because she's just staring at him.

"So soon?" she says, and her gaze drops to where he's tenting his pants. She has to know the viagra couldn't possibly be working yet.

"Yeah," John says, and he's out the door and into the next one before she can ask anything else.

Davies isn't lying alone waiting for him. Carson's in there, with two nurses as well. There are tubes and wires everywhere, and Davies' feet are obscenely splayed in stirrups, a drape covering his lap.

"Thank God you're here," Carson says. "I don't think he has much more time."

John can't help a small shiver at the sight. He was really hoping it wouldn't have to be like this, but there's an oxygen mask over Davies' face, so it's not like he can go that route.

"I'm sorry we can't offer you much in the way of privacy," Carson says. "Marie and Zoe have promised to avert their eyes."

John clenches his jaw, wishing he were anywhere else. But he agreed to this, and he's not going to back out now. He undoes his fly while Carson pulls back the drape enough that John can see Davies' ass. It's shiny with something that has to be lube, like they've prepared him already.

"He agreed to this?" John has to ask. "You're damn sure of that, right?"

"You have my word," Carson says.

John pulls his cock out, not bothering to push his pants down more than absolutely necessary. His erection has flagged a little, but he tugs on it and thinks of Jennifer's mouth on his, and then he's ready to go. Ready to fuck a guy who's probably horrified by the thought of it.

No. He can't think about that. He lines his cock up and presses, sliding in easily, which means Carson and his team did more than just the lube. Davies makes a tiny, whimpering sound, and John has to close his eyes. 

"It's all right, lad," Carson says, and John has no idea if he's talking to him or Davies, but he forces himself to slide out and then in again. Jennifer. He has to think of her. And her mouth. And her body plastered against him, giving as good as she got, pushing into his mouth with her tongue like she was greedy for it, like she wanted him. She knew what she was doing, where she was sending him. She knew he'd be thinking of her, and she didn't care.

 _I thought you were..._ she said. He has no idea what she meant. She knew he was bi? She thought he was gay? But why the hell would she think that? Unless he'd slipped up and left some of his porn on the screen.

Oh, shit, he did. He's sure of it now, because he doesn't remember closing the file the last time. Which means Jennifer saw exactly what he was watching.

It's a new kind of humiliation, thinking of her thinking of him like that. Thinking of her imagining he was safely uninterested in her and then finding out by the proof of the tent in his pants that he really, really isn't.

He wonders what she's thinking right now, if she's regretting the kiss. Both kisses. If she's wishing some other doctor had been around when he first needed the viagra.

Okay, that's not helping. He's never going to come if he thinks about shit like that. John screws his eyes tighter shut and concentrates on remembering the feel of her body against his, the crush of her breasts, the motion of her hips. He remembers the eager press of her tongue and the way her mouth tasted. He wonders what her skin would taste like, if she'd be as pushy in bed. If she'd wrap her fingers in his hair and hold him in place as he went down on her, if she'd make him work for it, if she'd scream when she came.

He holds that image -- her head thrown back, her back arched, her fingers tight in his hair -- as hard as he can, but he's not quite there. He needs more. He needs to see her smiling at him, impish and knowing, telling him he's not going to come until she's had him five times. Tying his hands to the bed frame and sitting on his face and then riding him, smiling and gasping, using him in exactly the ways he wants to be used.

And just like that it's over. He leaves his cock in Davies' body until the last twitch of his orgasm, then pulls out and tucks himself in immediately. The nurses are concentrating on their patient, but Carson looks up from the monitor. "Thank you, John," he says quietly. "I know that wasn't easy."

"He gonna make it?" John asks, fastening his fly.

"I'm afraid it's too early to tell. His liver function is critical. But he has a better shot now, thanks to you."

John nods. There's not a whole lot to say. "I gotta go," he says, and doesn't look back as he heads out.

Jennifer's waiting outside like he knew she would be, looking tight-lipped with concern, which is really not what he was hoping for. 

"Can we...talk?" she asks.

It's the last thing he wants right now, but he can't say no to her. He follows her, not into the second private room, but to a quiet corner of the infirmary. Where they can talk without being overheard, but not do anything without being observed.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe she doesn't trust him anymore. Maybe she thinks he might do something stupid if they were alone.

"Okay," she says, taking a visible breath, "I just want you to know I realize the whole idea is pretty stupid. You don't have to worry about taking me on any fake dates or anything."

Damn it, that's really not what he needs to hear right now. "I'm sorry," he says, meaning the kiss, the fantasies, and everything.

"Oh, no," she says. "I mean, it was my idea. You were just playing along. I don't even know why I thought it would work."

 _Because you thought you were covering for a gay man,_ John thinks. _You didn't know he'd respond to you like a bomb going off._ "Look," he says because it has to be said, "you don't have to date me. You don't have to give me those damn blue pills, and you sure as hell don't have to kiss me to get me in the mood. But I couldn't have...today I...thanks," he ends lamely. "I should go."

"I never meant to force you," she says, her eyes wide and sincere.

 _That's the problem,_ John can't say. _I kind of like to be forced._ "I know," he says.

She frowns, looking at him like she's trying to puzzle him out. "But you're not--" she starts, and suddenly John can't deal with whatever conclusion she's jumping to.

"I'm fine," he says, deliberately misunderstanding what she's about to say. "I'm good. I'll see you later."

"Of course," she says, and he's out the door before she has a chance to say anything more.

~~

"I understand you've made a conquest," Teyla says when John sits down at breakfast the next morning. "Congratulations."

Crap. "It's not what it looks like," John says.

"Looked like a kiss to me," Ronon says, and how the hell did he see it? And more importantly, if he was there, why didn't John see him? Because if he'd sat with Ronon yesterday morning, it would have saved him a hell of a lot of grief.

"Wait," Rodney says, "what? Who has Sheppard been kissing, and why didn't I hear about it?"

John wants to hang his head and slink away. "Look," he says, "we're not dating. She was just trying to help me out."

"By kissing you," Ronon says, and at the same time Rodney says, "Who?"

"Doc Keller," John admits, but Rodney still looks confused. "New arrival, blonde hair, looks younger than she is?"

"Oh, right," Rodney says, and apparently he does know every blonde on the base, despite the fact that he's dating a red-head. "You mean a _medical_ doctor. Wait, she's hot."

"We're not going out," John says, and then realizes he's going to have to tell the whole damn story. "Look, she just thought that if it looked like we were together, it would keep away the people who want me to cure their hangnails."

"Cure their hangnails?" Rodney says, and then gets it. "You mean with your dick?"

John just nods.

"That sucks," Ronon says.

Teyla covers John's hand with hers and says, "I'm sorry they would treat you in such a way."

But Rodney's staring. "Wait, you mean you have women throwing themselves at you and you're not taking advantage of it?"

"Rodney," Teyla says.

"I can't believe this! He's the one that gets the magic healing dick and he won't even take advantage of it?"

"They want me to cure their bursitis, Rodney," John says. "They're not exactly out to show me a good time."

"But you're not seeing anyone, and it's sex, freely offered. Why would you say no?"

John rolls his eyes and switches tactics. "What's the matter, the old ball and chain starting to chafe?"

"Certainly not," Rodney says. "Katie and I are very happy together." But he's distracted enough that when Teyla changes the topic he doesn't seem to notice, and John's off the hook -- at least for the time being.

~~

He spends his days hoping like hell that no one will get sick or injured or poisoned. Davies makes a full recovery, although it takes him several days. Apparently it takes a little longer when you're really close to dying. 

Mostly John just tries not to think about it. It's easier when he's offworld with the team, right up until the day Ronon gets gored by a flying bear.

"It was a monkey," Rodney says.

"No way was that a monkey," John says. He has the jumper cranked to maximum sublight and they're almost to the gate. Teyla is putting pressure on the wound, and Ronon's making small growling noises. It can't be that bad, John thinks desperately. Not if he's still conscious. 

They make it through the gate and the med team is waiting in the jumper bay. John stays with Ronon's stretcher because if he can help, he's damn well going to be there.

"Sheppard," Ronon croaks as they're wheeling toward the infirmary doors. 

"Yeah, buddy," John says. He can see the blood soaking through the layers bandages where Carson's working as they go. But Ronon's going to be all right. He has to.

"Think I'm gonna need you," Ronon says.

John swallows through the tightness in his throat. "You bet," he says, and Carson whisks the stretcher through the infirmary doors.

Jennifer's right there with a fucking blue pill, and John gulps it down. "Come on," she says. "We need to scrub up or they won't let us in the O.R."

It's completely surreal, but John does it. He strips to the skin and soaps up his hands and his goddamned dick. Jennifer turns her back and hands him a set of clean scrubs without looking, and he pulls them on as fast as he can. He doesn't have time to think about anything other than Ronon, but he still feels hot all over knowing she's right there, knowing what she'd see if she'd just turn around.

"I'm decent," he says when he has the shirt on, and she turns and hands him a mask.

"Look," she says, "Carson said he wants you in there ASAP. Are you going to be okay?"

She's not putting her own mask on, and he feels a sudden wave of panic. He can't do this without her, and it's Ronon, so he can't fuck up, either. "Will you be in there?" he asks.

"If you want me," she says.

John nods jerkily.

"Well, come on," she says, and pulls her mask on as she leads the way.

The O.R. is a hive of activity. Carson's already hard at work and Ronon's eyes are closed, but at least John knows for sure he consented. He pauses for a moment on the edge of the room, wondering how the hell he's supposed to have sex with someone who's unconscious and, oh yeah, in _surgery,_ but Marie motions him down to where Ronon's lower body is stretched out, his legs covered with blankets but his whole crotch bare. 

John can't see the rest of Ronon or where Carson's working because there's a surgical drape set up. It looks bizarrely disconnected, like it could be anyone's junk, only he knows exactly who it is. Ronon's dick is lying limply against his pubes, but bizarrely enough, someone has pulled back his foreskin.

"Aim for his penis," Marie says.

John swallows. "What?"

"His penis," she repeats gently. "Your semen needs to contact a mucous membrane, but you can't touch him while Dr. Beckett is operating."

"Right," John says, because of course he can't risk anything that could shift Ronon, even minutely. He clenches his jaw and steps closer to the operating table.

He's not ready to do this. He's not sure he'll ever be ready. And he can't kiss Jennifer because they're both wearing masks.

His hands are stiff as he pushes his scrubs down in front. No one is looking at him except possibly Jennifer, who's somewhere behind him. He doesn't check for her, just slips his limp dick out and pulls on it a few times, but the viagra hasn't kicked in and the lights are too bright and he can't stop thinking about what will happen if this doesn't work.

"John," Jennifer says quietly, "can I help?"

"Yes," he says in a strangled voice, and then she's right there beside him.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm right here." And one of her arms slides around his waist.

His arm curls around her on its own, pulling her against his side, and she presses her cheek to his neck. He closes his eyes and breathes, concentrating on feeling her warmth, the scent of her soap-scrubbed skin. Then her other hand settles on his chest, sliding slowly downward.

She's going to touch his dick. He holds his breath as the universe narrows to the slow progress of her hand down his stomach, and as it gets lower, his dick rises to meet it. Then her fingers wrap around him and he can't suppress a small grunt. 

He keeps his eyes shut and lets the sensation vibrate through him. Jennifer is squeezing lightly, running the ball of her thumb expertly across the base of his cock head, and he forgets that she doesn't want this, that she liked him better when he was safely gay. She's taken over completely and she knows exactly what she's doing and he's completely at her mercy.

"Fuck," he whispers as her thumb slides up and across his slit. 

"Hang on a sec," she whispers back, and both arms slip away from his body. John opens his eyes to see her pulling a bottle of lube out and then slicking her right hand up. Then her body presses against him and her hand finds his cock again and he gasps.

"It's okay," she whispers. "Just close your eyes and let go."

He does it because she told him to, and the operating room recedes. All he can feel is the warmth of her against his side, the slick slide of her right hand, and her left, settling lightly on his hip. A little lower than it was before, and as she starts pumping him, her left hand makes little circles over his hip bone. 

He can't concentrate at all. Her hands are making him crazy, the one so firm and knowing, the other so maddeningly light. He wants more everywhere but he can't ask. He can't say a goddamned word because he's asked her for too much already. 

"That's it, John," Jennifer whispers. "You're doing great."

He shudders against her, the movement making her left hand slip a little lower and farther back, and for an instant she's palming his ass and he can't help making more noise. But apparently she's pretty damn smart, because the next thing he knows her hand is squeezing his ass in time to her strokes on his cock.

"Good?" she whispers.

He doesn't want to answer, but she wants him to. "Yeah," he manages, and apparently that's enough, because she slides the hand on his ass up and then down under the waist of his scrubs. He has to gasp when he feels her fingers cup his bare skin, and she squeezes and pumps and pumps and squeezes, and he knows he's using her, knows it's all wrong, but it feels fucking fantastic.

"Come for me," she whispers. "C'mon, you can do it."

There's just enough authority in her voice to trigger him, and he feels his balls tighten, feels her push him forward half a step and angle his cock to the left.

Ronon's foreskin is still bunched under the head of his cock, and John's first spurt lands right on target. Jennifer milks him, still squeezing his ass, until he's spent and Ronon's cock is wet and shiny.

"Fuck," John says, sagging against Jennifer. She pulls her hand out of the back of his pants and tucks his cock into his scrubs and then reaches to slide Ronon's foreskin over the head of his cock, trapping John's come inside.

"God, I'm sorry," she whispers, squeezing with the arm still around John's waist. "C'mon, we have to get out of here."

"Okay," John says, and lets her steer him out of the O.R.

"I'm really, really sorry," she says again as she leads him back to the scrubbing station. She has to go of him to wash her hands, and he just stands there, watching her, feeling unsteady on his feet. His clothes are folded neatly on a medical cart, which is really not where he remembered leaving them.

Jennifer has her mask off, and her mouth is set in a thin, miserable line. John takes his own mask off. He's tempted to strip in front of her since she's already seen everything that matters, but he can't do that to her. 

"I just didn't see any other solution," Jennifer says. "God, you must think I'm worse than that woman in the mess."

John's chin jerks around. He can't believe she just said that. "I think you just saved my teammate's life," he says roughly. "Not really something that requires an apology."

"Really?" she says, but some of the tension leaves her face.

He wants to kiss her. He wants to tell her he'll do anything for her. He wants to spend the night in her bed, catering to her every whim. But she's acting like she's scared stiff he'll think she's interested in him, and the last thing he wants to do is make her any more uncomfortable. "Yeah," he says. It comes out gravelly and soft. "Couldn't have done it without you."

He's not imagining the way her cheeks go a little pink. "Anyway, you did it," she says. "I hope he's gonna be okay."

"Yeah," John says. "Me, too."

He gets dressed in the infirmary bathroom, but he can't just leave this time. He has to know if Ronon's all right. He finds Teyla and Rodney in the waiting room and Teyla comes up to him and puts a hand on his arm.

"Thank you, John."

"It's a little early to tell if it worked," John says.

"Nevertheless, it is comforting to know we have done everything we can for him."

John's not about to disagree with that, but he doesn't get a chance to say so because Rodney's staring at them both.

"Oh my God," Rodney says. "You just had sex with _Ronon?"_

John rolls his eyes. "I didn't have sex with him. I...gave a donation."

"Ah," Rodney says, but then his eyes narrow. "Wait, seriously? Because that's not what you did with Katie, and don't even try to deny it. She told me everything."

"Look," John says, "he was in _surgery._ I couldn't even touch him."

"I see," Rodney says. "But you aren't above touching other people's girlfriends."

"Jesus, McKay." It's the wrong time to be having this conversation, but some things need to be said. "It's not like I'm having a good time. Or would you get off on fucking people who are injured or dying, knowing they're only doing it for the miracle cure?"

"Huh," Rodney says, and actually seems to think about it for a moment. "Wait, are you saying you didn't enjoy having sex with Katie?"

God damn it, this is a fucking minefield. "I never said she's not pretty," John says, because he's starting to think that's what Rodney's got his back up about. "But it was pretty damn obvious she didn't want me, so no, it wasn't a lot of fun."

"Oh," Rodney says.

"And if she told you everything, she told you that part, too."

"Yes, well...yes. She did mention something to that effect. Also that you were quite the gentleman about the whole thing, which is really not what I would have expected."

It's the final straw; the camel's flattened. "Thanks a lot, McKay," John says, going to sit on the other side of Teyla.

"Wait, are you offended?" Rodney says. "Since when do you get offended?"

"Give it a rest," John says, and leans back to close his eyes.

~~

It's impossible to tell if it's Carson's expert surgery or John's magic semen, but Ronon recovers surprisingly quickly, ending up with an unnaturally small and unobtrusive scar across his upper belly. He doesn't give John a hug but he throws him around a lot the first time they spar, and that works just fine for both of them.

So John's grateful for that, and grateful for the fact that one kiss in the mess actually seems to have done the trick to keep the majority of the miracle-cure seekers away from his door.

But the thing with Jennifer is a little complicated. "Complicated" as in "nonexistent," and it's driving him nuts. He doesn't see her in the mess. He doesn't see her in the hallways. She's not at movie night -- he goes to the next one with Elizabeth out of desperation -- nor is she even around the infirmary the one time he stops by on the trumped-up pretense of checking on one of his men who's there to get a wisdom tooth out.

He can't ask for her. He'd feel like an idiot. So all he can do is hope like hell she'll show for the next medical crisis.

But when the call comes, she's not there. It's Carson who meets him at the infirmary door.

John tries not to look like he's searching the room, but it's hard. "So," he says, as casual as he can manage, "Where's Doc Keller?"

Carson's face is worried and far too kind. "I'm afraid she's the patient."

John feels his stomach drop and his skin go numb. 

"There was an accident in the medical lab. I'm sorry to say she crushed her hand pretty badly. I pieced her back together, but there's a good chance she may lose the use of several fingers."

Shit, that's bad. She's a doctor. She needs her hands. 

"I understand she's been supplying you with a vasodilator?" Carson says. "I can get that for you in a jiffy."

John just stares at him, wondering what the hell he's talking about, and then it clicks that he means the damn viagra. "I'm fine," he says, not at all sure it's the truth. He just knows he can't wait half an hour to see her. "She's in there?" he asks, pointing to the usual private room.

"Aye," Carson says. 

"Thanks," John says, and doesn't wait for anything else.

Jennifer is propped up in bed, her right hand swathed in bandages like an ungainly Q-tip. Her eyes go wide when she sees him, and then she turns bright pink. "Hi," she says, and lifts the fingers of her good hand off the bedcover in a little half-wave.

"How are you feeling?" John asks. He hears the door slide shut as he steps forward, closer to the bed but not close enough to touch. Now that he's nearer, the bandage on her hand looks even bigger. "You in pain?"

"Oh, you know," she says with a smile. "They have me on the good meds, so I'm not really feeling much of anything."

Crap, she's as high as a kite. "Tell me they got your consent before they pumped you full of painkillers."

A little frown bunches her eyebrows, like she has no idea what he's talking about. "Oh!" she says. "Oh, God, yes. That's not really..." Then her face clouds again. "I should have told Carson no, shouldn't I? God, this is so stupid. I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asks roughly. There's no chair in the room, so he just shoves his hands into his pockets and stays where he is. "For getting hurt?"

"No," she says. "Yes. I don't know. I never wanted to do this to you." And suddenly she looks dangerously close to crying.

"Hey," he says gently, putting one hand on bed frame next to her pillow. He can't believe she's thinking about _him,_ but then, she's probably still freaked out that he might think she's interested in him. There has to be some reason she's avoiding been him. "It's okay. Don't worry about me."

She rubs her thumb under each eye and blinks up at him. "I do," she says. "Every single time. I know it's not really my place or anything. I just can't help it."

 _Not really her place._ That twists his gut in ways he can't even explain. "Look," he says, and he has no idea what to say or how to say it. "I don't...I just...it wouldn't be a hardship, okay? I'd do...anything. For you. For your hand."

Jennifer's eyes go shiny again, which is exactly what he was trying not to do, damn it. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks desperately, and he regrets it as soon as it's out of his mouth, but then she smiles at him.

"You don't really need to ask that," she says.

His skin goes hot, and he feels the ground shift beneath him like he's standing on quicksand. "Yeah," he says, "I do." Then he leans over the bed and touches his lips to hers.

It's nothing like the kiss in the mess. Nothing like the kiss in the O.R. It's soft and tentative, like she thinks she's still apologizing. Or maybe he is.

Then John tilts his head and she lifts her good hand to his hair and the kiss turns hot and desperate, like someone flipped a switch. Her mouth opens and her hand tightens in his hair, and he follows her lead, pressing against her, touching her tongue with his.

He feels light-headed. Like he's falling. Like he owes her his life, and she doesn't even know it. But he wants her to. He wants her to know everything. And the way she's kissing him, he's starting to think she might not even mind.

He pulls back because he has to see her face, so soft and unfocused. Of course, that's probably mostly the painkillers. He has to remember she's not exactly herself right now.

"Tell me what you want," he says. "I'll do anything. Any way you want it."

She presses her lips together in a fleeting, lost expression. "Okay. Um. I guess we should probably just go with good old missionary position." She glances up at him, then looks away quickly. "I can put the bed down," she says, reaching for the controls and then lowering the head of the bed until it's nearly flat behind her. Then she tugs on the ties on her gown, fumbling with them one-handed.

"Hey," he says softly. "You don't have to."

She swallows and looks up at him, her eyes wide. "You don't want me naked?"

"I want you comfortable," John says. He doesn't want to be thinking about Katie Brown right now. He really doesn't. "I don't need..."

"Oh," Jennifer says. "I guess Carson got you all set up?"

Crap, she means the viagra. He wants to tell her he doesn't need it, but he doesn't know how she'll react, and the last thing he wants is to make this any more awkward than it already is. "I'm good."

"Are you going to take off your clothes?" she asks, and her voice shakes, just a little.

"If you want me to," he says.

She nods jerkily. "I mean, if you don't mind."

Clearly the part where he said he'd do anything for her hasn't gotten through, but John doesn't know what to say to prove he means it, so he just gets to work, shedding his jacket and t-shirt, and then setting to work on his belt. 

He glances up to see her watching him. "This okay?" he asks.

She nods, her eyes never leaving him, and he feels both his ears and his dick go warm as he pulls down his pants. He's only half hard -- the kiss had done it for him, but the conversation afterward cooled him off a bit -- but she doesn't look disappointed.

He bends down to get his boots off, and when he straightens, she's tugging at the ties on her gown again. "Do you think you could...?" she asks, looking up at him a little shyly.

"Yeah," he says. He's not going to protest if it's really what she wants. His fingers aren't entirely steady as he fights the knots and finally gets them undone, then gently pulls the gown open until it's loose on her shoulders.

"Hang on," she says self-consciously, and pulls her knees up so she can tug her underwear off one-handed. She's not wearing a bra, and she looks...beautiful, even with her poor, bandaged hand. Hot, Rodney called her, but that's not it, or at least not all of it. There's something brave and vulnerable about her, something open and trusting and self-sacrificing, and he wishes he could tell her what that does to him.

But maybe he can show her. Catching her gaze with his, John bends over her and kisses the inside of her thigh.

She gasps, and he feels his cock swell, but when he kisses her again, slightly higher, she giggles and puts her hand on his hair. "Oh, God," she says. "Wow, you're... _John."_

He lifts his head.

"I'm sorry," she says. "It's not that I don't want...it's just with this," she raises her bandaged hand, "and the stupid painkillers, I don't think I'm going to be able to...you know. So there's no point in going there."

Fuck. It's not that he thought this was real, or even that she wanted him. He just wanted to be able to give her something back, to let it be more than a fucked-up medical procedure for her, of all people.

"But you can give me a rain check," he hears her say. "You know, if you want."

He feels his heart do a quick double-beat, and suddenly he can feel the blood in his cock. "A rain check?" he can't help asking.

"Um, yeah," she says. "I mean, you don't have to or anything. I just thought, you know, if you were feeling bad about it right now, you could..."

He can't say anything. All he can do is find her lips with his, then climb up on the bed over her, his mouth still on hers. She kisses him back like it's her favorite thing ever, like she's not drugged or scared or hurting, like she means it, and by the time he's on his hands and knees above her, he's harder than the viagra ever got him.

"Okay," she says softly. "I'm ready."

"You sure?" he asks. And because he has to, "Do we have to worry about birth control?"

She laughs. "A condom would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? But no, don't worry, it's covered."

"That's good," he says, and slides his knees down on the bed. He fumbles for a moment, trying to get himself in position, and then has to reach down and guide his cock with one hand. But she's wet -- surprisingly wet, given the painkillers and the hand and everything. He holds himself tightly in control, watching her face as he slowly slides in, but she just closes her eyes and sighs when he's inside her.

"Okay?" he asks. He wants to wrap his arms around her and pull her whole body against him, but he doesn't want to jostle her hand.

"Yeah," she breathes. "You can, you know, go ahead."

He can't help kissing her then, soft and slow, before he starts to move. He wishes like hell he could touch her, or pull out and go down on her, but she told him not to, and he's not going to press her.

Besides, if she really wants that rain check...

"Oh!" she gasps, and he realizes he just thrust way too hard. 

"Fuck," he says. "Sorry."

"No. God. It's okay. You can...I can take it."

John closes his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek. He can't do this. He can't risk hurting her, because he's pretty sure she'll say she can take it even if he does. "Tell me what to do," he says, low and rough. "Show me how you want it."

"Hey," she says, and her good hand comes up to cup his cheek. "It's okay. Really."

 _"Please,"_ John says, and then something changes in her face, like a flash of comprehension.

"Okay," she says, and she wiggles her hips a little with him still inside. "Okay, I can do that." She looks up at him expectantly, her good hand dropping to his shoulder. Her bandaged hand is safely out to the side, where John's constantly aware of it. "Nice and slow," she says, squeezing his shoulder. "And deep."

He can do that. He can do anything. He slides in inch by inch, all the way until he bottoms out. "That good?"

She has an almost mischievous look on her face. "Maybe a little faster," she says, and he complies, pulling out and pressing back in just a tiny bit more quickly.

"Better?" he says, but she just arches an eyebrow at him.

"Kiss my neck," she says. She still looks amused, like she doesn't expect him to do it, but he drops his head without a moment's hesitation. "Lower down," she says more firmly, and he follows suit. He keeps his hips pumping at exactly the rhythm she asked for.

"My shoulder," she says. "My breast."

He does what she says, feeling hot all over. It's not real and he knows it, but it's Jennifer telling him what to do in bed and he can't help himself.

"A little faster," she says, and he can't help panting as he complies. "Faster. A little faster. Oh, God."

"You okay?" he asks, but her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed.

"Don't slow down," she says.

"I can't...keep this up," he tries to warn her, because he's suddenly really fucking close, but she laughs out loud and says, "Don't be silly. Just come for me," and he does it, just like that, shuddering into her and dropping his forehead to hers as the waves of pleasure consume him.

She pets his hair a couple of times and then, incongruously, kisses him on the nose. 

She's flushed and beautiful, and for a moment he almost believes this is real. He lowers his head to kiss her cheek, right by her ear. "You sure you don't want me to..." And he pulls out of her and slides down on his knees until his face is above her stomach.

But she makes a pained face, and the moment is broken. "I just can't," she says. "I'm sorry."

"No," he says, and he wants to bang his head on the bed frame for fucking up and acting like this is something it isn't. "That's my line. Here." And he rises onto his knees and pulls up the gown that's still over her shoulders, crossing it in front of her, hiding her body. He wants to kiss her again, her lips or the tips of her breasts, but it's over and she doesn't want anything more and she's probably hurting, so he just climbs off the bed and reaches for his pants.

"John," she says quietly. 

He has to look up. She's sitting up, the untied gown falling open over her collarbones, and he wants to kiss her there, too. 

"I just want to thank you," she says. "For, you know, trying to save my hand. And for making it not horrible."

He yanks on his boxers, then his pants. "Thought I told you," he says, because he can't stop himself. "I'd do anything."

"I know," she says, although he's still not sure she gets it.

John pulls his t-shirt over his head and reaches for his jacket. "Keep me in the loop about your hand, okay?"

"I can do that," she says.

He gets his feet in his boots, not bothering to tie the laces, and then he's dressed and it's time to go. "And watch yourself with the damned equipment. I don't want to see you like this again." 

"Okay." He can see her swallow, and too late, he realizes what that sounded like. "I'll try to be careful," she says.

"I didn't mean it like that," he tries, but that's wrong, too. "Look, I just don't want to see you hurt."

"I know," she says.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, good." He still wants to kiss her, but it's getting more and more awkward, so he just kind of pats her good hand. "I'll see you around."

"Sure," she says. "See you."

~~

He makes it through the evening telling himself it's too early to know if it worked. It's harder in the morning. He thinks about sending her an email -- _hey, how you doing?_ \-- or maybe radioing Carson, but he feels weird about doing either, and anyway, maybe Jennifer will show up in the mess at breakfast. 

But he doesn't see her there, even though he lingers over his coffee cup for nearly an hour watching the door until Rodney starts making snide remarks about caffeine consumption and he has to give it up. 

It hasn't been twenty-four hours, he tells himself. There's no need for panic. So he resists the urge to stop by the infirmary and makes it through his early morning meetings. He figures he'll go before lunch, but then Elizabeth radios him about a minor crisis on M6Y-734 and he ends up spending half the day offworld.

It's almost dinner time when they get back. John's kind of hoping Carson will want them down in the infirmary for a post-mission check up, but they get cleared in the gate room and he doesn't have the excuse. He wants to ask the med tech how Jennifer's doing, but his team is there with Elizabeth and more than one marine and he can't make himself do it.

He does manage to schedule the debriefing for after dinner, though, which gives him enough time to duck into his office. He figures he'll just triage his to-do list and then head over to the infirmary, but the first email in his inbox is from Jennifer.

 _The Loop,_ it's titled, and John's heart rate picks up. He doesn't know if it's good or bad, because she remembered the words he used but that's a damn neutral subject line.

But the email itself is short and to the point. _I'm typing this with both hands,_ it says. _Thank you._

He reads it three times. He feels light-headed, relieved, and frustrated as hell. He wants to see for himself, to see her hand healed. He wants her to run up to him and hug him. He wants her to stop by his quarters and ask for her rain check. But she sent him a god-damned email.

Okay, so maybe she tried to radio him when he was offworld. Maybe she looked for him at lunch. Maybe she really does give a damn about him. Or maybe he's just fooling himself and she's been helping him out of purely professional motives and she kisses all the guys like that.

It's not like it really matters, John thinks darkly, paging through the rest of his emails without really seeing them. He has to remember that. Because even if she is attracted to him, even if she cares about him, it's not like he has anything to offer her. He doesn't even own his own dick these days and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Even if she's interested in him, even if she wants that rain check, there's no way he can promise her he won't get pulled out of her bed to go fuck someone else.

He can't do that to her. He wouldn't do it to anyone. So there's no point in talking to her. No point in asking her if she wants him. No point in any kind of confession.

The best he can hope for is that she'll be the one to take care of him the next time he's called down to the infirmary. That she'll be there for him when he has to be there for someone else. And it damn well better be someone else. He's not sure his heart could take it if she got hurt again.

~~

After three days, he's certain the disappearing act is on purpose. He spots her once in the mess, late at night, but she's just there to grab a cup of coffee and she doesn't even stick around to drink it. He's pretty sure she doesn't see him.

So he's not exactly thrilled about the call from Carson when it inevitably comes, but he just says, "On my way," like he always does and heads for the infirmary.

When he gets there, the place is oddly quiet. The doors to the private rooms are both open, and Carson's talking with a nurse. He looks up as John walks in and comes over with a smile.

"Ah, Colonel," he says. "It's good of you to come."

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" John says, because if there's no patient, he wants to know why he got dragged down here. He better not have to jerk off into a cup again.

"I'm afraid it's not my story to tell," Carson says as he leads the way through the infirmary and into the adjacent lab where there are several researchers hard at work. "I brought someone to see you, lass," Carson says, and when the woman bent over the microscope turns, John realizes it's Jennifer.

"Oh," she says, "hi," and flashes John a quick, bright smile. Her hair's pulled back and there are circles under her eyes, but she looks genuinely happy to see him, and something in his chest loosens.

"Doc," John says. Cool. He's playing it cool. But when she steps closer to them and lifts her right hand in a broken-off half-gesture, and he can't help himself.

He catches her hand in his, turning it over so he can see it. There's a thin tracery of scars across the underside of her palm, but her fingers are all straight and she obviously has full use of them because she curls them around his thumb and then opens them wide again.

"It's fine," she says with a flushed smile, but she doesn't pull her hand away. "Really. One hundred percent functionality."

"That's good," John says, rubbing her scars with his thumb. Her skin feels warm and firm, like she's really, truly okay, and he can't find it in him to be cranky about her email anymore. "That's great."

"It's amazing," she says, looking up into his eyes. "Thank you." 

It's only then that he realizes he's just standing there holding her hand, right in front of Carson. He lets go as unobtrusively as he can. "You wanted to see me?"

"Oh," she says. "Right. I, um, thought you'd want to know. Dr. Beckett and I have had a breakthrough."

"It was all your doing, my dear," Carson says. "I merely gave you leave to work on it."

"You took me off rounds and gave me all your preliminary data," Jennifer says.

"Oh, aye, and you've been working 'round the clock ever since."

John watches them, wondering if they've forgotten he's there. "You want to tell me what this is about?"

Jennifer flushes and Carson smiles.

"She's found a way to stabilize the hormone," Carson says. "Your hormone."

John just stares. That can't mean what he thinks it means.

"It doesn't have more than ten minutes' shelf life," Jennifer says. "Which means it has to be synthesized on the spot whenever we need it. But with Ancient equipment we can do that, and we've tested it in three patients so far."

"To complete success," Carson says smugly. "We're very proud of her."

"Wait," John says, because he still can't believe it. "You mean, you're not going to need me to come down and, uh, do my thing anymore?"

"That's right," Jennifer says, beaming at him.

John feels hot all over. He can't believe she did this for him. That she's been hiding the fact that she'd been doing this for him for weeks. Or longer. It certainly explains where she was when she was avoiding him.

"Wow," John says. He knows it's totally inadequate, but nothing he wants to do right now is appropriate in a medical lab.

"We're extremely grateful for everything you've done," Carson says. "Including providing the original samples that allowed Dr. Keller to complete her work."

Jesus. She's been elbow-deep in his semen for weeks, and he didn't even know. "No problem," John hears himself say. And then he can't help himself. He puts a hand on Jennifer's arm. "Thank you," he says. "For doing this. For everything. I...thank you."

She's flushed and beaming. "You're welcome," she says. "It was the least I could do."

It's not. It's totally above and beyond the call of duty. He suddenly understands why she sent him that cryptic email. Some things are just too big for any kind of "thank you."

"I won't forget it," John says, feeling suddenly giddy. Reckless. Free.

"No," Jennifer says, her eyes gone earnest. "Me, neither."

He can't help himself, then. He has to lean in and kiss her, in front of Carson and everyone else in the lab. It's giving himself away -- hell, it's giving everything away -- but he's past caring. He needs this, and if she pulls back and tells him she likes him but not like that, he'll deal. 

But she doesn't. She wraps her arms tight around his neck, holding him in place, and her tongue pushes into his mouth like she's staking a claim. Like she doesn't care about Carson or anyone else, either. Like she already knows he's hers, and suddenly he realizes, he can be. Thanks to her, he doesn't ever have to fuck some random dying person again. It's the best feeling ever.

"Oh, God," she says, pulling back far enough to look up into his eyes. "This is real? It's not just gratitude, or whatever?"

"It's real," John says. "If you want it."

"God, yes," she says, and kisses him again. "I can't believe you actually...I thought you'd think I was worse than those other women. Trying to take advantage."

John shakes his head. "You never. Not once. You were just there. When I needed someone."

She sighs against him and rubs the nape of his neck. "Well, trust me," she says. "I wanted to."

He can't help smiling. "Does this mean I get that rain check?"

"Do you really need to ask?" she says.

He suddenly realizes they're still in the med lab surrounded by people, but when he looks around, the room is empty. Carson must have herded everyone out. "Just tell me when and where," he says. "And, you know, how."

He doesn't mean anything by it, not anything like _that,_ but she arches her eyebrows at him. "Oh, yes," she says with a knowing smile, "I intend to."

John feels his ears go warm. He can't believe he forgot how perceptive she can be. But all he says is, "Cool," and leans in when she laces her hands into his hair and pulls him down for a long, deep kiss. 

He lets his body melt against hers, consciously ceding control, and the kiss flares hot and wild. Her hands are all over him like she knows his darkest secrets and it's so damned good he's panting when she pulls back.

"Oh, wow," she says breathlessly. "This is going to be the best thing ever."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, it is." And for the first time since this damn thing started, he almost doesn't resent his magical healing cock.


End file.
